


Bloodied Hands

by LoudandDangerous



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: A game of tag, Actually I'm not sure, Bucky's crazy for Steve, Eventual Sex, Hurricane, Knives, M/M, Night, Poison, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Psychopath, Rainy sex, Steve's crazy, happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4574424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudandDangerous/pseuds/LoudandDangerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>''Love ya, Stevie'' It was simple but held so much power. </p><p>Steve stayed silent, a scowl upon his face. It didn't fit his scrawny stature. </p><p>''I wanna drill a hold into your heart.''</p><p>Bucky dropped the glass and stared at Steve. </p><p>Steve wasn't kidding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsuGkIgatyE
> 
> This was kinda what prompted this story. It felt strange writing Steve as the bad guy, but no Bucky doesn't die.
> 
>  
> 
> (Not in this chapter.)

Asthmatic, scrawny, strange, awkward, anti-social, small, slender, tiny…there were far too many words to describe Stevie Rogers. Most of them weren't nice ones in comparison to how most described Bucky. Muscular, dashing, handsome, flirty, social, out-going, perfect. Every time Steve heard someone describe Bucky, his heart dropped with embarrassment. Why wouldn't it?

 

For everything that Bucky was, Steve was the opposite. Sometimes he cried himself to sleep after it, most times he'd go over it in the shower and work himself up to an asthma attack. It felt terrible knowing that he could never live up to Bucky. He loved Bucky, he loved Bucky with all his heart.

 

_It was Bucky's other friends that he hated_

 

The couldn't stand Steve, the way he'd whine when the would go running.

 

_It wasn't whining, he was having an asthma attack._

 

The way people looked at him when they all walked into bars, the lightweight he was when they drank.

 

_His body can't handle too much alcohol._

 

The way he acted around most dames. 

 

_It wasn't him, it was the dame. They didn't fancy the scrawny types too much._

 

So Steve would leave and cry in his bedroom by himself. Sometimes on his way home, someone would harass a dame and Steve would try and stand up for her, only to get ass kicked. Bucky once found him in an alley, crying after he'd left to go home.

 

After that, Bucky felt the need to protect Steve. Steve hated that _even more._ Bucky's friends would push and shove him, most times Steve would go to the brink of madness. Sometimes, he'd take the beer bottle home, smash it and dig his hands into the glass until they'd bleed because he needed the pain to distract him from Bucky and his jerk friends. He did this often. Sometimes Bucky would come home and find Steve's blood on the floor and think he'd killed himself. Once Bucky walked into the room and found Steve's bloodied handprints on the wall and Steve crying out on the fire escape.

 

''Are you okay? Your blood is all over the apartment, are you fucking crazy?!'' Steve had turned around, charcoal smudges on his face and told Bucky to be quiet.

 

Bucky had known something was wrong, but maybe his friends pushed Steve over the edge. He invited Steve out  _one_   _more_   _time_ to make amends with is friends and hopefully help Steve.

 

''Scrawny Rogers at nine o' clock!'' They gawked and pointed.

 

''Seriously, Barnes. Why do you hang out with this creep? He looks like a cigarette. Why do you bother?''

 

''Come on guys, Steve's a really cool guy. He's not a bad person, he's just born with that body. It's not his fault.'' Bucky had pointed to where Steve was standing, but it was empty space. Steve left.

 

The beer bottle in his hand, ready for smashing and to be dug into his pale little hands. The gray sky circled around Steve as he stormed through the block to the apartment. 

 

''NO, HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!'' A dame yelled from behind him.

 

''Come on darling, I can give you the best night of your life!'' The man screeched. Pulling the woman from her behind. Steve ran towards the two. The man took notice and smacked Steve across his face. The red hand print hurt like hell on his left cheek. He brushed his hand over the stinging mark and felt it burn on his face, sending a shiver down his spine.

 

_Pain. He needs more pain to distract him from the hurt._

 

He smashed the beer bottle over the man's head, the man fell with a thud and the dame scurried away. Yelling a ''THANK YOU!'' from behind the bend of the city block. Steve stood catatonic as the sky rumbled above him. The dark sky loomed over him like a baby's mobile over a crib.

* * *

 

 

''STEVE!? STEVE?!'' Bucky was running to find him. Bucky's never like this unless he'd come home to find that Steve had an asthma attack while he gone.

 

The dead man beside him, broken glass on the sidewalk. He struggled to steady his breathing from the stress and not cause an asthma attack. Steve hid behind a trash can and watched Bucky run right past it. Bucky stumbled upon the dead man and the broken beer bottle. 

 

''Damn drunks always drinking themselves to death.'' Bucky stepped aside the body and ran farther as the sky opened up and thunder crashed down. 

 

Steve brushed himself off and stood on the sidewalk. The rain poured down, harder as Steve stared at the dead body and Bucky getting farther and farther away from him until he couldn't see the brunet anymore. Steve stared at the broken bottle pieces and dug his hand in them. Blood leaking out of his hands, tears leaking out of his eyes, rain leaking out the storm clouds. 

 

Steven Grant Rogers had killed a man.

 

He closed his eyes and stuck his bloodied hands on a ''No Parking'' sign. Bucky was running back, Steve hid behind the trash can once more. Bucky had run past it, stopped and backed up. His eyes wide at the, now bloodied, ''No Parking'' sign that Steve had made his mark on.

 

''Motherfucker…'' Bucky shook his head and ran again, the rain soaking his hair, his shoes splashing in a puddle as thunder struck across the sky. Steve peaked his head out once Bucky had made his way around the bend and bolted to the apartment. He stopped, clutching his chest from an almost asthma attack. A bloodied hand on his white shirt. He ran farther, stopping occasionally to steady his breathing. 

 

''STEVE!?" Bucky called from a few miles behind. Bucky bolted towards him.

 

_Another thing Steve resented about Bucky._

_He was fast._

 

Steve pulled out every ounce of power in him to pull his feet faster as Bucky was only about a mile behind now. Steve tried again, making his way up the stairs of the apartment and shutting the door. He searched the drawer for his inhaler and took a deep breath. Steve pressed his back against the wall and sunk down to the ground. 

Bucky burst through the door, giving Steve another asthma attack. He clutched his chest and took another deep breath.

 

Bucky was furious, his brown hair, now black with rain water. The dark sky lit up through the window and shut down the power. The baby blue and gray sky provided light in the otherwise pitch-black apartment.

 

''Rogers, you've got explaining to do. What? Where even _were you?_ You could've at least come back to the apartment! You don't even have an -- _''_

 

_''I killed someone''_

 

_Bucky stopped right in his track and stared at Steve._ No light in the apartment, but the occasional flash of lightning and the gray sky provided just enough light for Steve to see the wrecked expression in Bucky's face. 

 

''Stevie, no..''

 

''It was an accident. He…he was harassing a dame and I smashed the beer bottle over his head and…and he just'' Steve hesitated, holding back tears. Bucky could sense the lump in Steve's throat. '' -- just collapsed.''

 

_Steve was broken, just like that beer bottle._

 

''James, I don't know what to do. The fella probably had a family, I mean he was harrassin' a dame no less, but he's still dead.'' He was crying now, choking on tears, his inhaler rolling out of his bloodied palm as his hand lay on the hard tile. 

 

It flashed across his mind.  _He's a creep, why do you bother, Barnes? What's wrong with his body?_ Steve clenched his fists, digging small pieces of glass into it. He winced and then relaxed his shoulders.

 

_He needs pain, to distract him._

 

No matter how many pieces of glass he dug into his skin that night, it loomed over him. The murder, Bucky's friends, the glass. Steve clenched his fists as Bucky wrapped them up. Bucky sent him to bed like he was a child while he himself contemplated in the living room. Steve tried to sleep, but thunder, lightning and his thoughts weren't mixing too well. Steve stared at his hands, got up and began punching the wall. His fist were dripping with blood, he’d taken the bandage off. His face was flushed. He stood staring at the wall, 5 holes in it from the rage in his fists. He cried harder. He opened the door, to Bucky siting in a couch.

 

''You okay?'' There was worry in Bucky's voice as he picked up a glass of water from the table next to him. ''I just want you to know that I love ya, Stevie.'' 

 

It was simple, but held so much power. Steve stayed silent, a scowl upon his face. It didn't fit his scrawny stature.

 

''I wanna drill a hold into your heart.''

 

Bucky dropped the glass and stared at Steve. The glass shattered on the ground and Steve eyed it, contemplating whether he should dig it into his hands.


	2. Blue, White and Red all over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inhaler.
> 
> A jazzband.
> 
> A bloody clue.
> 
> and a one night stand.

''Stevie?'' 

 

Steve's blank expression couldn't be read no matter how hard Bucky tried. Steve blinked slowly, his hands dripped with blood. The brown tile was slowly growing a puddle of red liquid, spreading across the floor. Steve wasn't awake, but he wasn't sleeping. Steve opened the drawer and took a carving knife. He stared at it in his red palms and wiped his hand over it. Blood streaking across the shiny surface of the weapon. Steve flashed a smirk and turned to Bucky.

 

''Hey, baby boy…'' Steve's tone was flat, serious. It set a shiver down Bucky's spine. ''Where are those friends of yours?'' Steve shuffled across the kitchen and into the living room. Steve eyed the knife. ''Not too many places to run, is there?'' Bucky swallowed hard. Bucky backed to the wall slowly. Steve followed and stood on his toes.

 

The scrawny little bitch was _grinning._

 

''What’s wrong, baby boy? Don’t you love me? Don’t you love us? Bucky, it’s okay. It’ll be slow and painful for you. Lovely for me. Our love is electric isn’t it, baby boy?’’ Steve ran a bloody hand over Bucky's cheek, leaving a wet, red handprint on Bucky's face.

 

Steve worked the knife at Bucky's neck like a violin bow. 

 

But he stopped. Just before breaking the skin at Bucky's neck.

 

''Hey Buck?'' Steve teased, still partially comatose.

 

''Y --yes?'' Bucky stuttered, tripping over his words with fear.

 

''…Scream.'' 

 

''What?''

 

''I. Said. SCREAM.'' Steve screeched in Bucky's ear. ''Surely you don't want my knife making you do it, where are those friends of yours? The certainly never  _acted_ like friends. They way they ridicule me, mock me, hurt me.''

 

 

Bucky winced in pain as Steve slit an 'x' on his chest.

 

''Do you love me now?'' Steve walked away as Bucky stood in fear against the wall. ''Go to bed, Barnes.''

 

Bucky obeyed and shut the door. Steve looked at the broken glass on the floor and did what he'd done for such a long time. He dug it in his palms and watched blood pour from his hands. 

* * *

 

Steve looked out the window and watched the night sky become the morning sun. He stayed there all night, eyelids half open. 

 

''Stevie?'' Bucky peaked into the bedroom.

 

''It's Steven, dipshit.''

 

Bucky's eyes widened in shock. No, it's not even 'Steven', because he's not Steve Rogers.

 

He's a monster.

 

''Stevie.'' Bucky said sternly in defiance. Steve turned his head to the side, but didn't meet Bucky's gaze.

 

''It's Steven.''

 

''Not the Steven that I know. You're Stevie to me, Stevie Grant Rogers.''

 

Steve clenched his teeth and scowled.

 

''IT'S FUCKING STEVEN!" He lunged at Bucky with the knife and took the knife to Bucky's stomach. Bucky held Steve's hand on the handle and resisted the force Steve was putting into stabbing Bucky. Bucky pushed Steve off of him. The knife still clutched in his hands, dried blood flaking off. Bucky ran, Steve followed. Bucky grabbed Steve's inhaler and bolted out the door. Steve stood in the door frame and stared Bucky down, his blue eyes burning into Bucky. 

 

''You know why I can't follow you like that.'' 

 

Bucky held up Steve's inhaler and grinned. ''Gotcha.'' 

 

''You may have my inhaler, but I still have the keys to the apartment.'' Steve jingled both sets of keys and locked the door. 

 

Bucky stared at his shirt and pants.

 

''I don't want to go anywhere because Steve might have an asthma attack….but even if he does, I can't get in.'' Bucky glanced at the door one more time, got up and left the building.

 

He headed to go see a few of his friends, though Steve would kill him if he found out. They were where they usually are, the bar across the bridge. A few dames eyed him and winked, but Bucky knew.

 

_He had a lover back home._

_A lover that apparently wants to go by Steven._

 

He wanted to drink all the problems away, but he'd end up like a stoned idiot by the end of the night. He drank a few beers before realizing that he'd spent the day in the bar.

 

A few bands played, but none like the jazz band. Ricky's blues boys. They took requests. Bucky tossed a nickel into the jar and requested a song.

 

Steve's favorite song to be exact.

 

He pulled the inhaler out of his pocket and rubbed his thumb over it, thinking about Steve and his bloody hands. He set it on the counter when a blonde dame came over and sat on his lap. Bucky swallowed. Hard.

 

''I see you in here a lot, you've always got this little scrawny fucker runnin' around with ya. But he's not here now.'' She tilted Bucky's head up and whispered in his ear. ''Is he?'' She smashed her lips against Bucky's in a warm kiss. 

 

''Let's go back to my place.'' She coaxed. Bucky followed.

* * *

 

Bucky woke early the next morning, the blonde in her bra next to him. A used condom in the trash beside them. 

 

_Fuck._

 

He gathered his things and bolted out the door. He knew what she'd think of him, '' _He's one of those guys. A fuck and leave._ '' But he didn't have time for her opinion. He had to get back to the apartment and get back to Steve. In the crazy state he was in, Steve couldn't be left alone.

 

He arrived at the door and slapped his pockets to look for his keys. Oh, Right. But his pockets were still emptier than they were yesterday.

 

_Steve's inhaler._

 

He raced back to the bar.  _Closed._ It's far too early for a bar to be open. But Bucky noticed something. A handprint on the door.

 

A bloody handprint that was small enough to be Steve's.

 

Because it _was_ Steve's.


	3. Electric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's got no inhaler.
> 
> Bucky's got no dignity.
> 
> There's a note From the paper boy.
> 
> And it's written brilliantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Stucky.
> 
> But something about insanity makes me grin like an idiot.

_By jiminy! Stevie's gone crazy_.

The bloodied hand was burning a hole into Bucky as he stood in front of the bar. A broken beer bottle by the heel of his shoes, he could see Steve grinning in his mind. Steve's glasses pushed up on his face, his bloody hands, the lovely sex hair he had in the morning, a mad scientist grin upon his face.

 

"BUCKY!" He called from behind.

 

"STEVIE?!" Bucky's face lit up.  _No._  It was a paper boy, huffing and wheezing down the block as if he had blown the three little pigs house down.

 

"No, but I have a letter from him." The paper boy stopped and reached down to catch his breath as he handed Bucky the note.

 

Bucky hastily ripped it open. It was wet and stained with tears.

 

_"Heard you slept with a dame. Congrats. I hope you're happy. Couldn't bear to love a murderer. So you shouldn't mind me._

 

_P.S It takes two, Bucky._

 

_(You don't)_

_Love, Steven Rogers."_

 

The letter was accompanied by Steve's signature bloody hand print.

The latter statement was wrong. He loved Steve more than Steve loved himself, and although Steve didn't love himself too much, Bucky loved Steve more than Sarah Rogers probably did. Something had screwed with Steve, it wasn't just the murder (Although the murder had fucked up Steve even more).

 

It was Bucky's friends.

 

What Steve had said to him to other night began to stand out.

 

_Where are those friends of yours? They don't act like friends. The way they ridicule me, mock me, hurt me._

 

The bar wasn't going to open for while now, the paper boy had run off, so there Bucky stood. Dumbstruck at the letter, kicking himself for sleeping with that dame and clutching the envelope. The envelope that held his key to the apartment. The sky grew gray with soon to be lightning as Bucky made his way down the city block to the apartment building. If Steve ran like that, he'd have dropped dead within seconds.

 

Bucky jammed his key into the lock and stepped into the apartment. Broken glass crunched under his shoes as he slowly walked, praying that Steve was sleeping in his bed. It was a long shot and he knew it too, but maybe Steve had gotten tired of digging glass into his precious little pale hands and had decided to sleep. 

 

_Bucky was wrong. Bucky had been so very wrong._

 

The wallpaper had been **swallowed**  by bloody handprints. A series of handprints each set apart from each other so precisely that they seemed to form letters. They _were_ forming letters. _  
_

 

**_ B _ **

**_ U _ **

**_ C _ **

**_ K _ **

**_ Y _ **

 

The bottom of the 'Y' had been streaked down until the line hit an abrupt stop at the bottom. Another note laid at the floor.

 

_"Can't claim to love me if you cheated. Thing is, I still love you. Our love truly is electric, ain't it, baby boy?_

_Funny about electricity is, you get to close...._

 

_You'll get shocked."_

 

Thunder and lightning roared outside as he read the last line. Bucky turned around to the window, the wall beside it reading:

 

" _You're playing with matches, baby boy. You've set my heart on fire, but it wasn't an accident. You twisted me like metal at the docks._

 

_It takes three, Barnes._

 

_1\. 2...."_

 

What does it mean? It takes two, it takes three? Three what? Three people? Three days? Three years? 

 

Unless it meant that it Steve's murdered three people. Bucky's heart dropped, and so did his body as he passed out in the pool of blood and glass.


	4. Ashes, Ashes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1, 2.
> 
> Steve still loves you.
> 
> 3, 4.
> 
> But Bucky can't take anymore.
> 
> 5, 6.
> 
> Yet, Steve's won't stop with this.
> 
> 7, 8.
> 
> Hopefully, Bucky's not too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, This will probably be my favorite chapter. Steve's full blown psychopath, Bucky's reeling from the letters, blood and glass is all over the apartment….
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GtPW4nB3Ro
> 
> Another, lovely song that truly describes Steve. 
> 
> Steve is gone, But Bucky's holding on.

Steve stood over Bucky's body, staring at him, laying with glass and blood as a pillow. Steve kneeled down a planted a kiss on Bucky's forehead. Steve ran his index finger over the line of the slowly healing 'X' from a few nights ago. Bucky's eyes opened as he stared at the blond, his blue eyes burning an inferno to Bucky.

 

''You look so peaceful when you sleep.'' Steve's tone was soft. Softer than it had been before. A small smile briefly appeared on his face before it was pushed down into a tight line of disappointment. ''Too bad you're not sleeping anymore.'' Steve had a cloth in his hands. ''Maybe we should change that''. 

 

Steve took the cloth over Bucky's mouth and nose as Bucky resisted and tried moving to avoid breathing in the liquid that the cloth had obviously been soaked in. 

 

Resistance was futile.

 

''James Buchanan Barnes, you truly are a heartbreaker.'' Steve soothed as Bucky's eyes were slowly closing. ''That's it, baby boy. Sleep.'' Steve hushed as Bucky's muffled cries slowed down and stopped all at once. Bucky's chest rose and fell as Steve took the cloth off and shoved it under the bed beside him. He kissed Bucky's comatose body and left the apartment. His shirt was clean and crisp, no blood prints on it like before. Steve thought about the difference between him and Bucky once more, but this time, Steve had something else added.

 

When Steve's name was uttered, most thought of the scrawny kid down the block. What Steve thought of, was the awkwardness, the scrawny body, the asthma and  _the body count._

 

_Yes, the body count was up to 3._

 

Steve had the upper hand when it came to men harassing dames now. Steve knew it was wrong, but his broken mind didn't care. If what he did was wrong, then Bucky's friends were wrong by default for making him that way. There's a fire burning deep inside of him, a fire that Bucky stared. 

 

Steve headed into the diner on 7th Avenue and sat on a stool at the counter. His feet didn't touch the ground when he sat, that made him feel like shit.

 

Steve's face used to light up like a toddler with a balloon when his feet didn't touch the ground. He used to kick his feet and he never met Bucky's gaze because he was too busy watching his feet dangle from the chair.

 

Bucky loved that.

 

Bucky loved when Steve was happy because it didn't happen too often, either because of his health or the thought of his mother swept across his mind and he'd cry for hours. After he'd gone out with Bucky's friends, that feeling stopped because Bucky's friends told him that it was because his body was too small. After that, he didn't care to acknowledge his dangling feet and when he did, he would look like he wanted to kill himself because of his body. Even when Bucky's feet didn't quite reach the floor either, Steve still wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

 

Bucky's friends made him feel like a doll that had been recalled for too many imperfections, he was going to break if he was played with too much or maybe his back would snap and Bucky would simply move on to another toy to play with. Someone his friends wouldn't pick on.

 

Maybe it was Bucky's fault.

 

Bucky always enticed Steve to go with him and his friends, knowing that Steve couldn't look them in the eyes. Every time Steve went out with them, they found another flaw to point out, and yeah, Bucky would stand up for Steve but he never denied what they'd said.

 

_Steve looks like a fairy. Steve needs to go home. Steve looks like he'll snap any moment. Scrawny Rogers! He's far too awkward for a dame to love him._

 

_No one could ever love Steven Rogers._

 

He began to think that it's true. He wasn't worthy of Bucky's love. Love was something he'd had been starved of for so long that when Bucky showered him with it, he'd finally felt like he was worth something. Not just the stick that break if someone said the wrong thing. His heart was far too fragile (Physically and Emotionally) to be broken. So Bucky tiptoed around trying not to break it.

Until he dropped it. Steve's heart smashed across the floor, the pieces so sharp that Steve would want to dig into his palms to distract him from the pain and heartbreak.

 

_All because of Bucky's friends._

 

The waitress had come around, poured Steve a cup of coffee and asked if he'd wanted anything.

 

''Not right now.'' Steve smiled sweetly, the way Bucky loved and the waitress headed to another man with the same question. Steve stared out the window by the kitchen, the acquired taste of black coffee sat in his mouth. He hated coffee, but he didn't want to be rude. He grimaced as he swallowed the coffee, staring out the window. 

 

He was pulling her where she didn't want to go. She screamed but no one helped. Steve dropped the mug of coffee and watched the liquid splash across the floor. 

 

_Good god, he wanted to dig it into his hands. Feel the burn of the hot coffee inside of him._

 

The waitress gasped and scowled. 

 

''Do you guys have any beer?'' Steve yelled, slapping a dollar on the counter. Another woman behind the counter took the dollar and handed Steve the cold, glass bottle.  Steve left the diner, and dashed across the street.

* * *

 

Bucky woke up, his face wet from the cloth but he steadied his breathing and stumbled to his feet. He howled in pain as he stepped in glass.

 

Steve had taken his shoes off.

 

He dug the glass out of his feet, and put his foot back on the ground. He'd missed a piece, but when it dug into his foot, he finally understood.

 

The glass in his feet distracted him from Steve. _Steve needed physical pain to stop the emotional pain._ Bucky's friends hurt his ego emotionally, so he needed to dig the glass in his hand so he wouldn't think about it. When he cheated on Steve, Steve had been hurting so badly, that he needed every single piece of crystal clear glass in his hands. That's why he was able to spell Bucky's _fucking name_ on the wall.

 

He had bled so much, that he could write words with his blood.

 

Bucky tiptoed across the floor, almost slipping in blood, he picked the tiny piece of glass out of his foot and shoved on his shoes. Grabbing his keys, he left the apartment and headed down the avenue. 

 

Another dead body laid on the sidewalk, a broken glass bottle next to his head, and Steve's handprint on the shop window beside it all.

 

_Body count: 4._

 

Bucky kneeled down and called for help. Leaving before the police arrived. Bucky scoped the town square, knowing he'd be able to recognize his blond little lover.  

 

A few of Bucky's friends had run into him on the sidewalk.

 

''Hey you guys, have any of you seen Steve?''

 

''That scrawny kid? Jesus, Barnes! The damn kid is gonna kneel over any second, why do you hang out with him?''

 

''I don't _just hang out with him_ , you know Stephanie? The dame I'm always talking about how good in bed she is? Yeah, that's Steve. Stephanie doesn't exist. You know what?! I don't like you talking about my boyfriend like that, he may be scrawny…'' Bucky leaned in to whisper in their ears. ''But he's screamed my name louder than any dame will ever scream yours.'' Bucky smirked at them before running off. They stood dumbstruck, one of them opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

 

Bucky picked up his speed and almost tripped when he saw a letter from Steve, taped to the ground next to a burning mailbox. Bucky reached down to grab the note, careful not to set himself on fire. He ripped it open twice as fast as he did with the first letter.

 

_''This is the way you left my heart._

 

_When the fire is done, this mailbox is just gonna be twisted metal. Sharp and dangerous._

 

_That sounds familiar. Sharp, Twisted, Dangerous? Hmm_ _…oh, right._

 

_Lil' Stevie Rogers heart looks just like that. My mind too, if you're keepin' score._

 

_Love always,_

_Steven Rogers_.❤❤❤''

 

Bucky could hear the words coming out of Steve's mouth. Steve's voice reading the letter in his mind. The mailbox was slowly twisting, soon it would be nothing but ashes. 

 

_Ashes._

 

If Bucky didn't get to Steve soon, Steve's heart would be ashes.

 

Then what would happen?

* * *

Steve stood over the body with a blank expression on his face.

 

No joy, no remorse. No guilt, No satisfaction.

 

This time there was no bottle involved. Steve's hands clenched together. The same way they had around the fella's neck.

 

''Bucky would be so proud of his baby. _''_ Steve said, a slow grin growing on his face. ''Our love is _always_ electric''. Steve dropped the iron into the bath tub in front him. It splashed and zapped, sending the electricity to shut down.

 

''Bucky would love this, Bucky loves  _us,_ Bucky loves me.''

 

_Body Count: 6._

 

 

 


	5. James B. Barnes: Property of Steven Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Stevie killed a man,  
> In his mind that set off a plan,  
> To make his lover proud of him..  
> After all, it was Steve and Bucky through thick and thin.
> 
> Bucky's hurt but he's okay.  
> He may be fine but he's still afraid.  
> Of the little blond he called his lover,  
> The same blond who wants Bucky to suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flunitrazepam, also known as Rohypnol among others, is an intermediate acting is a benzodiazepine used as an hypnotic, sedative, anticonvulsant, anxiolytic, and skeletal muscle relaxant drug.
> 
> This is what the cloth was soaked. Just so you know, because it's mentioned in this chapter.

 

_You'd never guess that Stevie Rogers is a serial killer._

 

He didn't look crazy, he didn't  _act_ crazy. Twisted, maybe, but not crazy. Steve carried himself in a way that made most look past him. The scrawny stature helped with that. The first murder gave him a gut wrenching feeling. 5 bodies later, he couldn't feel anything. 

 

Maybe that was a good thing.

* * *

Bucky opened the apartment, the same mess on the floor from earlier. This time, however, he was looking for something.

 

_The cloth that Steve used to sedate him._

 

It wasn't in the kitchen, the bathroom, or the living room. He searched the drawer, but found nothing. It wasn't in the bedroom.

 

_Or so he thought._

 

When he slipped on a few shards of glass, he tilted his head to the bed. The cloth sat, damp, crumpled up and sopping wet under the it. He shot his arm out to grab it and made his way to the fire escape. The imminent hurricane that the radio had predicted was nascent in the sky, but the State of Emergency was going into effect by 4. 

 

Bucky had two hours to find Steve. Hopefully Steve will cooperate.

 

He turned to the bed, remembering the things that he did with Steve in it. The way Steve took a handful of sheets before an orgasm ripped out of him. The look on Steve's face when Bucky made him feel like the only person in the world. The warm smile on Steve's face when he would come down from his orgasm.

 

That was all Bucky wanted right now.

 

Steve.

* * *

" We could do this my way or we could do it the easy way. A) I murder you for fucking my boyfriend or B) You still die, a less than painful death." Steve crossed his arms and stared at the dame. 

 

"Please, no. Please.." She trembled. "I have a husband, we were planning to have kids."

 

"You do, do you?" Steve's mocking surprise would be funny if the situation wasn't dire. " Then please, delight me and find it within yourself to tell me why you slept with someone else, knowing damn well that you have significant other." 

 

She was shaking, Steve's knife at her neck, a scowl on his face and waiting for an answer. 

 

"I asked you a question. Surely if I didn't kill you, I could easily tell this husband of yours the truth.  _Then_ , what would happen?" Steve had her at his thrall, the knife slowly stroking down to her stomach where it stopped, waiting to stab.

 

"He was….cute?" She asked in more of a question than an answer.

 

"Wrong answer, babe."

 

_Body Count: 7._

* * *

_'I can't leave it on him for too long, because if I do, he might have an asthma attack and God knows where his inhaler is now'_

 

Bucky's mind was racing. His head was reading the letter, his body was making it's way down 4th Street and his heart was holding out to find Steve. Thunder would crash or lighting occasionally flicker across the sky but Bucky had bigger problems to worry about than the weather. The cloth was clutched in his fists, dripping with Rohypnol. 

 

Bucky turned around briefly and saw nothing but RED. Steve's handprints wet, and new on the sign behind him. 

 

_Too bad his back was turned._

 

The searing pain shot through his back. It hurt more than glass, being shot, scraping your face, getting stabbed or getting cut. Bucky fell to the ground, the burn still in his back.

 

''You know babe, interesting fact about livestock branding, is that it doesn't have to be just livestock!'' Steve flashed an innocent grin at Bucky as he lied down in pain on the ground.

 

Steve showed Bucky the hot iron in his hand. 

 

''Hell, this one even says my name.'' Steve leaned in to whisper in Bucky's ear, ''To make sure you won't cheat again.''.

 

It burned on his back, it felt like he'd been through hell and back.  _No_ , it felt worse. It felt like being drafted into war and finding out that Steve found someone else while he was gone. _But it was pain_. Physical pain to distract him from the emotional pain he would feel from drugging Steve.

 

He reached his arm out and wrapped it around Steve's tiny waist. He flipped and held Steve under him as he shoved the cloth in Steve's face. Steve kicked and screamed, and while Bucky _would've_ felt bad about it….

 

_He had the burn in his back to distract him from it._

 

Steve's eyes slowly closed just like Bucky's the first time before Steve was asleep. The rain crashed out hard and fast. The clock in town square read 3:39.

 

''That's it, baby boy.'' Bucky mocked as he carried Steve to the apartment. ''Sleep.''

 

He swept the glass and wiped the blood from the apartment. He chained Steve to the bed so he wouldn't try to leave again. Steve had been asleep for a while and Bucky began to wonder if he accidentally killed Steve. 

 

Until he heard the chains rustling in the bedroom. 

 

''Bucky?'' Steve called from the room, ''Bucky, I know you can hear me.'' He rustled the chains before screaming a few times. ''James Buchanan Barnes, I KNOW YOU CAN FUCKING HEAR ME!'' 

 

''You're having a temper tantrum, Stevie.'' Bucky tried not to pay attention to Steve. The sound of rustling chains filled the apartment as Bucky made dinner. ''I'm not going to let you go!'' He called back from the kitchen. 

 

The rustling chains stopped. Steve watched the lightning flicker outside with boredom. 

 

''Can I have a glass of water?'' He called out, his voice filled with semi-hope.

 

''Can I trust you with glass?''

 

''I'm chained to a fucking bed, what do you think I'm gonna do? Break myself out?'' His sarcasm rang through Bucky's ears as he poured Steve a glass of water.

 

_Bad move, Bucky._

 

All it took was Steve smashing the glass, cutting the chain with it, leaving a handprint on the window to the fire escape, and writing a note.

 

All within three minutes. 

 

The hurricane was in full swing outside, and so was Steve's plan.

 

The note by the fire escape was wet with rain water.

 

'' _I believe they also called me ''Childish.''_

 

_Tag, you're it._

 

_Your lover,_

_Steven Rogers ❤❤❤''_

 

  _FUCK._


	6. A terrible decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapter, I've been busy with 'Love and Science' and 'Insomnia at it's finest'

The kid was smart. Bucky knew that all too well. Hell, he foreshadowed his own escape and Bucky didn't pick up on it until it was far too late. 

 

Bucky's brunet hair had become black and damp with rain as he rushed against time to find Steve before something terrible happened. He turned the bend on 35th street when he found Steve. His back was turned and he was either watching something or feeling the rain. Bucky had to walk slowly in order to avoid Steve noticing and running away like a spooked horse. Bucky had been so immersed in Steve that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings.

 

That included a tree branch flying off and hitting him in the face.

 

''FUCK!" Bucky shrieked as he fought the tree branch that the rain had continued to push onto him.

 

Steve inhaled sharply and turned around, pacing around Bucky with his hands behind his back. Steve stopped and stared at Bucky with a crystal clear grin on his face. 

 

''My name on your back truly makes a lovely addition.'' Steve leaned in to whisper in Bucky's ear. ''Doesn't it, baby boy?''  Steve lifted his hand and stroked Bucky's face with obvious lust.

 

Bucky stammered, it was done, he was finished, he'd fallen under Steve's spell and there was nothing to do about it. Bucky closed his eyes as Steve proceeded to take off his rain soaked shirt. Bucky took hold of the back of Steve's head and smashed their lips together in an extremely sloppy kiss. Steve moaned as Bucky shoved his hand down his pants and pawed at the firm bulge growing in Steve's briefs. Bucky tore off Steve's pants as gasped at how hard he was under it.

 

Bucky reached into his pocket to pull out the small tin of vaseline. He slicked up his fingers and shoved his index finger into Steve.

 

"Bucky," Steve whispered in pure euphoria as Bucky stuck another in and found his prostate witch ease. Steve rocked his hips and began to fuck himself on Bucky's fingers. Bucky shoved a third one in and clutched Steve, who was now squirming with delight and precome.

 

"You like that Stevie?" Bucky whispered before leaving a hickey on Steve's frail neck. Steve moaned loud in response. "How about I go a little...bit...deeper?" Bucky taunted as he hit Steve's prostate 3 more times.

 

"I'm...I'm so close, _Bucky please_." Steve pleaded with ecstasy. One flick of Bucky's index finger on Steve's prostate had him coming undone. He came all over his stomach and the pants and briefs at his ankles. He was panting now, slowly running out of breath as he tried to keep Bucky's hand where it was. An advantage to being the way he was, was that Bucky could make him come with minimal to no effort.

 

Bucky stopped, clutched Steve by the waist in his arms and held him. Steve scowled at Bucky, trying to regain his breath and put Bucky's hand back in his pants.

 

"Your inhaler." 

 

Two words and Bucky was flying down the sidewalk with Steve in his arms. Steve tried pulling his pants up and once he'd finally got there.

 

 _Asthma overcame him_.

 

The bar sign read "Sorry for the inconvenience, Closed for the storm."

 

"FUCK!" Bucky screeched as Steve laid unconscious in his grasp. Now he was really kicking himself. 

 

He hurdled up the stairs of the apartment building and tossed Steve on the bed in the living room. He put a hand to his forehead and paced around the room. He kissed Steve on the forehead and left the apartment, praying that Steve would still be alive when he came back.


End file.
